My Lovely Lady Revised
by CassDG3253
Summary: New Chapter 9 up! She had suffered under this man, her mother had suffered and most likely been killed by this man, and now her sister was suffering under this man. It was time for him to suffer.
1. Important Author Note!

!ATTENTION – VERY IMPORTANT!

Okay, now that I have your attention. I would like to announce the new and improved version of My Lovely Lady. Some things have changed, hopefully making it a better, longer, more interesting story. Most of the events so far have stayed the same, but I've finally found a way to take it in the direction I wanted it to go. So, I suggest you reread everything so that you understand the changes.

That being said, I would again like to thank everyone who read, reviewed, and supported me with the original. I hope you will find this one more satisfying! Now on with the story!


	2. Want to Dance?

Kyra jumped as one of the customers pinched her ass.

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked the pot-bellied truck driver who had committed the deed. He obviously had a death wish.

"Just admiring those sweet buns of yours." Kyra rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to splash the hot coffee she was carrying in his face. Turning her back on the trucker Kyra delivered the coffee to the next table over and collected the check. Her last for the night. _Thank god, I'm exhausted._ She had just finished a nine hour shift with a half hour worth of overtime at the all night diner. Taking off her apron and throwing it behind the counter, Kyra was pocketing her tips when Angie, her replacement, walked in. As she put on another apron, Kyra leaned over: "Watch out for the trucker at table three, he's the touchy-feely type." Angie only nodded. She had dark circles under her eyes. _Poor thing, with that new baby I bet she's barely getting any sleep._ Kyra breathed a sigh of relief as she walked out of the diner. She couldn't wait to get home to her bed. Or couch. Whichever she came to first.

The walk home was the only remaining obstacle. Since all her classes were in the morning, Kyra had to work the afternoon and night shift, which meant she had to walk the streets of Gotham's slums in the darkest part of the night. The time when all Gotham's creatures came out to play. She was just a few blocks away from her apartment when she heard a high-pitched voice call out in the dark.

"Hello there, my lovely lady, would you like to dance?" Keeping her cool, Kyra scanned her surroundings. She couldn't see anybody, but that didn't mean there wasn't anybody there. Crouching down, pretending to tie her shoe, Kyra slipped out the small switchblade she kept in her sock. _'Just in case.' _She had thought when she'd put it there before work. She was glad she had it now. Picking up her pace just a bit, Kyra continued on her way, avoiding alleys and dark corners, anywhere someone could lurk.

She made it to her apartment without any other problem. She slipped in and shut the door, checking twice to be sure it was locked. She set her keys on the table by the door and tramped through her bedroom into her bathroom. She took the ponytail out of her long blond hair, brushed it, changed into her favorite shorts and a t shirt, wiped off her makeup, and climbed into bed.

Kyra had just begun to doze off when she heard her bedroom door open. She froze. She heard heavy steps coming closer, wondering how anyone could have gotten into her apartment. She feigned sleep, hoping whoever it was would just take some stuff and leave. She didn't have anything nearby she could use as a weapon, not even a damn lamp. All she had in the way of self defense skills was tae kwon do, something she hadn't practiced since she was fourteen. She was twenty-two now. Everything suddenly went very still. Then, she heard the voice again, this time right by her ear, whisper "Glad you decided to dance, lovely." Kyra shot up, swinging her foot in the direction of the voice. Her foot connected with something soft, and she heard a grunt. She bolted for the door, making it to her entranceway before she was tackled. She hit the hardwood floor with a painful jolt. The body on her back wrapping its arms around her to keep her from moving. She struggled to get her arms loose, but her assailant was stronger. She looked up towards the door, still trying to free herself and saw her keys were gone, and then she saw that one of the small windows that framed the door was broken. _Well, that was stupid of me._ Her assailant took this moment of realization, grabbed her head, and slammed it into the floor.


	3. Welcome to the Ball

Darkness surrounded Kyra. Where was she? What happened? Was she dead? Was this what happened after death? If so it kind of sucked. A small light appeared in the distance. What did everybody say about going to the light? She couldn't quite remember. Oh well….

The first thing Kyra realized when she woke up was that she was indeed alive; the throbbing of her head was enough to prove that. The second was that she was tied to a chair. _Okay, this isn't good. _Kyra closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and switched to defensive mode in her mind. She wasn't going to get out of this by sitting back and waiting for whomever to come and do whatever to her. She took stock of the room. Plain white room, white carpet, ceiling fan in the center of the ceiling, one window, bars on the outside, one door, most likely locked. Okay, so no possible escape routes, and no weapons. This was really not good.

Terror tried to creep its way in. She didn't know where she was, didn't know what this guy wanted with her, and didn't know if she would live past the day. Kyra shook her head. She couldn't think like this; she couldn't let terror win.

Kyra heard motion outside the door. She turned her head to face whoever was holding her here. The first things she saw were two dark brown shoes and purple pants. She continued her gaze upward, glancing over a green vest and purple overcoat, purple gloves, and a green tie. But the most horrifying part of his attire was the greasepaint that covered his entire face; especially the lipstick that covered the scars stretching his mouth into a permanent gruesome grin.

Kyra's blood ran cold. It was him, the maniac that was constantly on the news. The Joker. But what could he want with her? He closed the door behind him and locked it swiftly before walking over to Kyra and standing behind her. She kept looking straight ahead, even as he bent down and whispered in her ear.

"Well, my lovely lady, welcome to the ball. Do you have a name?" Kyra kept her mouth closed in a hard line. She soon felt cold metal pressing up against the skin of her neck.

"I'll ask one more time, what is your name?" To prove what he would do to her he pressed what Kyra correctly assumed was a knife harder, drawing a bit of blood. Reluctantly, she answered,

"Kyra."

"Do you have a last name?" Again she was silent. He pressed harder, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. She would not give him the satisfaction of letting him know he had caused her pain.

"Landry." The Joker smiled and drew back the knife. He crossed back and kneeled in front of her. Kyra lunged against the chair, rational thought escaping her momentarily. Escape was her only thought; it was a stupid move. The zip ties around her wrists and feet allowed no movement; she only succeeded in hurting her wrists and showing him her fear.

The Joker smiled and chuckled, then leaned in so their faces were mere centimeters apart. For a moment they held each other's gaze, malice and ruthlessness in the Joker's eyes, cold fury in Kyra's. Then the Joker spoke, his voice once more a whisper.

"I'll tell you something Kyra. From now on you are mine. I will do with you what I please." The Joker stood and clapped his hands together.

"Now, let's get started!" And then he laughed.


	4. I've Seen Worse

Kyra was hurting. She wanted to move, anything to get off the cold hard floor, but she couldn't. She hurt too badly, and she was bleeding from the cuts the Joker had placed all over her body. The cuts he had made just for the fun of it. Some were deep enough that she would have to have stitches, but others were fairly shallow.

And then there were the bruises. Littered over her skin, they almost seemed like dark misshapen polka dots. At that moment, as she lay covered in her own blood on the floor, Kyra wanted nothing more than to lay down in a soft, warm bed unscathed and unharmed. She knew she would probably never get that chance again.

Kyra mentally smacked herself. _You're still alive, that's something! There has to be a way out of here somehow._ But it was so hard to think. She felt like her brain was syrup, thoughts only coming at a slow trickle. There was no telling how much blood she was losing.

Eyes closed, she lay motionless on the floor, fading in and out of consciousness, until someone grabbed one of her bloody wrists, dragged her out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into a living room. Once there whoever was dragging her let her arm go. It thumped on the floor loudly, and a jolt of pain immediately shot up it, but Kyra was too tired to care. Then she heard the Joker speak,

"Clean her up Johnny. I want her all patched up and ready to go again by tomorrow night. Oh, and Jack, clean up the floor, she's gotten blood all over the carpet." Kyra then heard footsteps beside her, but they faded as the Joker left the room. Kyra couldn't say she wasn't glad.

She then felt two people pick her up, one had her arms, the other her legs. They weren't exactly gentle about it, but at least they didn't drag her around like the Joker did. They set her down on something cushiony, and when Kyra opened her eyes she saw it was a black recliner. Looking to her left, she saw a man of medium height with chocolate brown hair. He appeared fairly well built, but a bit thin. He brought with him benzyl peroxide, gauze, gauze tape, cotton pads, thread, and a needle.

"Looks like he tore you up pretty bad." The man she assumed was Johnny stated. Kyra snorted. _Oh, really? No, shit Sherlock._ She didn't reply, instead choosing to just stare him in his green eyes. She could see her dark blue ones reflected back in his. He was the first to look away.

"Okay, this is going to sting." He then began applying the benzyl peroxide to some of her more minor scrapes and cuts. Kyra winced in pain. Sting was an understatement. Kyra took a deep breath and steadied herself. She would not show pain to any of these people. She would not be broken.

He flashed a smile of straight teeth, though they were tinted yellow. Kyra didn't smile back. A few minutes passed before her moved on from cleaning her wounds to stitching up the worst cuts. He attempted once more to begin a conversation:

"You know, I've seen worse than this." Kyra raised her eyebrows and he continued.

"Well, I mean most of those people were dead, but that's beside the point."

"Okay, then, what's the point?"

Hearing her reply Johnny gave her another smile and went on.

"The point is, I've seen worse, and I'm sure you'll recover fine. Of course, you might have a few battle scars, but..." Kyra almost smiled at the notion of it being a battle. It was more like a slaughter. A while went by silently before Johnny finally moved on to wrapping her wounds in gauze. By this time Kyra was drifting off to sleep. She heard the snipping sound of the sewing shears as Johnny cut off the last piece of gauze and taped it to what was already wrapped around her arm. She heard him shuffle around a bit, then make his way out of the room.

Kyra was dozing when she felt a hand on her leg, a hand that was making its way north. Kyra snapped her eyes open and thrusted the leg that the letch had been touching upwards; she heard it smash into his face with a nasty crunching noise. Glancing around she spotted the sewing shears Johnny had been using. She snatched them up in the blink of an eye, and thrusted them into a man's stomach. She then opened the blades of the scissors, though not far, and snapped them shut. The man fell over, dead.


	5. Fashion Show

Kyra looked down at the body. She guessed it was the other henchman she had heard the Joker talking to, Jack. Kyra shuddered. No, that would not happen….. Kyra swayed and felt faint, so she collapsed back into the arm chair. She decided that it hadn't been a smart move to kick the guy, as the effort was currently shooting spasms of pain up her leg. Kyra closed her eyes. She was tired, cold, hungry, and hurt. She wanted nothing more than a little sleep. But then she heard footsteps followed by the Joker screeching,

"What the hell happened here!?" Kyra looked up at the Joker and raised a single eyebrow.

"He thought he would try and molest me in my sleep. I didn't want him to. So I stopped him, permanently." The Joker stared at her a moment, incredulous. Then he began to laugh. He stopped suddenly, and stomped over to Kyra. He roughly stood her on her weak legs and dragged her into the room she had first woken up in. He shoved her in, and as she lay in a heap on the floor, he said,

"You've been a bad girl Kyra. For what you did you get to sit here until I get back and when I do….." He paused a moment and licked his lips, wetting his scars,

"I'll deal with your punishment then." He winked and slammed the door shut. Kyra could faintly hear him shouting orders outside, but it quieted down soon. Kyra had heard something about playing with the big bad bat. Probably Batman._ It must suck to be him sometimes. Having to fight the Joker all the time._ Kyra looked at the floor. Decisions, decisions. Kyra lied down on the floor, curled into a ball, and fell asleep.

*~*~*

Kyra heard the door slam and woke with a start. He was back. At that moment, Kyra wished she were anywhere else. She looked at the Joker. He was standing in front of the door, a huge grin on his face, with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He strode over to her, grabbed her arm roughly, and dragged her down the hall to another room. She was in a room with dark purple walls. The wall to her left was covered in newspaper clippings, though she couldn't see what they were about from where she was, most likely his own escapades. That or the Batman. Kyra looked down as he pushed her in. The floor was some kind of black hardwood. There was a closet in the opposite wall and a back fan centered above an iron framework bed.

"Well, well, my lovely lady, this is your lucky day. I, uh, happened upon some extra money this afternoon and brought you back a little present." He threw the duffle bag onto the bed beside her. Warily, she unzipped it and looked inside; it was full of clothes. She looked at the Joker then back at the clothes. The Joker's grin got even bigger.

"I didn't like the ones you had in your apartment. They didn't suit the look I had in mind for you. So I got you these. I had to guess your size so I think you had better try them all on."

"Just as soon as you point me to a bathroom." Kyra retorted. The Joker chuckled; his smile was now so wide it almost didn't fit on his face. Kyra's jaw dropped as she realized what he wanted.

"No way in hell am I going to try these on in front of..." In a flash the Joker was in front of her, his switchblade in her mouth. Kyra wasn't sure how it had happened. The Joker leaned in close and whispered,

"You're either going to try those on..." He moved the blade downward, to right in-between her breasts.

"Or I'm going to strip you down and put them on you myself."

Kyra glared at the Joker but nodded reluctantly. She was too tired and sore to argue. She snatched the duffle bag off the bed beside her and went to the far corner. She proceeded to try on all the clothes, most of which were purple, green, and black. He obviously hadn't envisioned color for her. Some items were a bit baggy, but most of them fit fairly well. It was when she got to the last two items in the bag that she froze.

"Oh, no."

The Joker laughed his insane laugh.

"Oh, yes. Try them on. You know what will happen if you don't." Kyra picked up the two items, a dark, purple, lacey thong, and a matching bra. She was torn, either try on the lingerie or be tortured some more and most likely die. Granted, she didn't have much to live for anyway, but life was better than death, right? Kyra went over to the other side of the bed and crouched beside it, hiding her body from the Joker's line of sight. She hurriedly stripped and put on the lingerie. It barely covered anything, and Kyra felt bare to the world. She definitely didn't want the Joker to see her in it.

"Come, lovely, let's see how you look." Kyra stood up slowly, attempting to hide her body as much as she could with her arms. It was made worse when the Joker burst out laughing; she could feel her cheeks get warm. Once he finished laughing though he became deadly serious. He moved towards Kyra slowly. With every step he took towards her, she took two back, until she hit the wall; she was trapped.

The Joker pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, his voice heavy with lust.

"You look... Absolutely... Lovely. Good enough to eat." And with that he closed the space between them, pressed his lips to hers. She hadn't expected that. After a minute of confusion, Kyra gave in and kissed him back. It wasn't entirely unpleasant and his scars didn't interfere. She felt his tongue against her lips, seeking entrance. She gasped, and the Joker took advantage of this opportunity. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, and skimmed it over her teeth. He pushed his body against hers, his erection pressing against her inner thigh. Kyra snapped. She realized what was going to happen she attempted to push him away, but he overpowered her. Using the firm grip he had on her shoulders, he steered her around and pushed her onto the bed. She struggled to stand back up, but the Joker only grabbed her wrists and held them above her head, using his body weight to push her further into the bed. He swung her legs around so that she was lying vertically on the bed, and straddled her.

He attempted to kiss her again, but Kyra turned her head away. The Joker settled for kissing down her neck, biting hard when he got to her shoulder. Kyra tried to muffle the cry of pain that arose in her throat. The Joker came back up to her ear, and whispered, huskily,

"I could make this good for you, if you cooperated," He licked the tip of her ear.

"But then again, it's so much more fun to make you… scream." A switchblade came out of nowhere and was abruptly placed on her cheek, the Joker about to cut, when there was a knock on the door. Kyra almost cried in relief. The Joker's face became furious.

"What do you want!?" He roared.

"The Batman, sir, he's been, ah, sighted… you said to let you know…" The Joker growled and released his death grip on Kyra's wrists, climbed off the bed, and thundered out the door. She heard it lock behind them. She waited until she couldn't hear him anymore then eased herself off the bed, slid some clothes on and lay down on the floor beside the bed. She would rather sleep in mud than on that bed. Eventually, she managed to fall into a fitful sleep.


	6. Memories and an Empty Shell

Kyra woke up to a harsh slap in the face. The Joker was towering over her. She shivered as she remembered what had happened the night before, prayed there wasn't more to come. She should have known better.

"Who the hell told you that you could sleep on the floor? From now on you either sleep in my bed or you don't sleep at all!" The Joker backhanded her, knocking her back to the hard floor. He stared at her, sprawled out on the floor below him. She glared back up at him, still defiant, but much more cautious. He bent down and swiftly picked her up. _What the hell?_ He threw her onto the bed and she realized what was going on. She began to struggle, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he was already on top of her again.

"Sorry we got interrupted earlier, but I had some business to take care of. Now where were we." Kyra closed her eyes, willing the memories away, and threw everything she had into getting away.

It was useless. The Joker took a knife from some hidden pocket and used it to cut off her shirt and bra. Exposed from the waist up to the Joker, Kyra couldn't take it anymore. She closed her eyes and attempted to use her arms to cover herself. The Joker just slapped them away. She felt his tongue start at her neck, then work its way lower and lower…..Kyra tuned out at that moment; thoughts returning to that night.

*~*~*

_"What are you doing, daddy?" Kyra asked._

_"Taking from you what your mother won't give me." At nine years old, Kyra didn't quite understand his hands on her thighs, the smell of alcohol on his breath._

_"You want to help daddy, don't you? Since mommy can't?" Kyra nodded her head. She loved her daddy, even though sometimes he came home angry and yelled at mommy, like tonight. Kyra felt a sharp pain between her legs, her daddy on top of her crushing her. It hurt so bad. She started crying. How was this helping? Why didn't daddy stop? Unfortunately, this night was just the first in a long string of sexual, emotional, and physical abuse her dad forced on her, just like he had her mother, until she ran away at seventeen._

*~*~*

When she finally came back to reality the Joker was clothed once more, getting ready to leave. Her head hurt and her eyes felt swollen. Reaching up to her cheek, she realized she had been crying. Seeing she was awake, he bent down over her, grabbed her face with one hand, and opened his switchblade with the other. She stared at him wide-eyed, though he could see no emotion in them. This startled him, and for a moment his determination faltered. He tore his eyes away from hers, and concentrated on the task at hand. With his switchblade he slowly traced the trails left by her tears, cutting just deep enough that it would scar.

Once he was done, he pushed her back on the floor, again looking in her eyes. Still there was no emotion in them. She didn't cry, she didn't whimper, she didn't struggle, she didn't do anything. This made him even angrier.

"Why don't you do anything?! What the hell is wrong with you!? Cry, scream, do something!" Kyra just lay there and stared at the raving lunatic that stood before her. Using all his strength, he kicked her in the ribs. She gasped, the wind having been knocked out of her, but other than that, nothing. The Joker screamed in rage and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Kyra lay in her spot on the floor for a moment, listening to the Joker scream at his henchmen, and further storm out the apartment. When she was sure he was gone, she got up and crawled onto the bed. There was a knock on the door, but when she didn't answer, the person behind it came in anyway. It was Johnny.

"God, what did you do? I've never seen him that angry before." She didn't answer. He took one look at her, and a chill crawled up his spine. She looked horrible. And it wasn't just because of the fact she was naked, or the cuts on her face and body, some of which had torn open during the night. She looked like a ghost; her face was devoid of emotion, like she no longer cared about anything. Perhaps that was what scared him the most.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered, "what did he do to you?" Kyra shrugged in reply. After giving her some clothes to put on, Johnny came and sat on the bed, bringing his tray of surgical supplies with him. Kyra sat quietly while he re-stitched the ones that had torn open, and took care of the fresh ones on her face. Once he was finished, he spoke again,

"Ummm, look, the Joker said while he was gone you could take a shower. He also said that the fridge was full and for you to fix you something. And Kyra," he added in a softer tone, "Don't let him beat you." Kyra looked up at him, and he saw a flicker of emotion. Unfortunately, it disappeared as fast as it had appeared. Sighing, Johnny got up to leave. His hand was on the doorknob, when he heard a faint,

"Thank you."

Johnny glanced backwards, gave Kyra a small smile, and left.

Kyra got up and tiptoed down the hall, opening doors until she found the bathroom. She was afraid to make too much noise, lest this all be a trick by the Joker, let her think she was getting a little relief, and then give her worse than before.

Shuffling into the bathroom, Kyra was stunned at how nice it was. A large tub/shower combination, a mirror that ran the length of the opposite wall and was half its height, the other half covered by a marble counter with two deep sinks, toilet sectioned off in the back, dark brown tile floor, deep green walls. Beside the tub was a container stocked with towels, shampoo and body washes.

Kyra looked at herself in the mirror, and jumped at the sight. She looked absolutely revolting. Her hair was an oily tangled mess, she had dark circles under her bloodshot eyes, and her neck had several hickeys. She quickly looked away; she didn't want to see herself like that.

That wasn't her. Johnny's words rang in her head. She turned toward the shower, her mind waging war with itself. She didn't know what to do. She didn't want to feel anything anymore, it was so easy not to feel anything, to let him do what he pleased, but she didn't want to become a shell devoid of life. She stepped in the shower, turned the hot water on, and immediately all her thoughts were washed away as the warm water soothed her sore body.

It was bliss. Kyra took a long shower, and even when she did finally step out, she didn't want to leave the comfort the shower provided. Wrapping a towel around herself, she opened the new tooth brush sitting on the counter, and went to work on her teeth. She finished quickly, and pulled on some of the new clothes the Joker had bought her the day before, a white camisole under a dark purple jacket and flared blue jeans. She decided to let her naturally wavy hair air dry, as she was eager to get to the food and didn't want to waste time drying it.

She made a bee line for the kitchen, where she made herself a turkey sandwich, which she quickly devoured. She opted for another turkey sandwich along with a bag of Lay's Barbecue Potato Chips, and a glass of water. She took her meal and sat down on the couch in the living room, flipping on the TV to Nickelodeon. Once she was finished she put her dishes in the sink, and decided to explore the apartment. She tried the door to the outside, which, of course, was locked. She had already seen the living room, kitchen, and bathroom, and the small bedroom she had first been held in. All that was left was a small dining room. Kyra liked the dining room the best, because one wall completely glass, providing a view of Gotham City's slums, with uptown in the background. Kyra would have bet her left arm that the view was amazing at night.

Bored, Kyra curled back up on the couch, and soon fell asleep. Sometime later she woke up to someone picking her up. She opened her eyes slightly, seeing the Joker's customary green vest. She quickly snapped her eyes shut again; she didn't want him to realize that she was awake. She felt him carry her to his bedroom where he gently placed her on the bed. For a few minutes she lay awake, waiting for him to do something, but soon the soft mattress and warm comforter caressed her back into a dreamless sleep.


	7. Obssession

Okay, everyone, sorry for the wait on the last revised chapter I had previously written. My godbrother got into an accident and ended up with third degree burns on his face, arms, and legs. However, I should be putting up more chapters soon. I hope you enjoy this chapter and the many ones to come.

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_**An Hour Earlier…**_

"Why don't you do anything?! What the hell is wrong with you!? Cry, scream, do something!" Kyra just lay there and stared at the raving lunatic that stood before her. Using all his strength, he kicked her in the ribs. She gasped, the wind having been knocked out of her, but other than that, nothing. The Joker screamed in rage and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

**Present time…**

'_Aaaargh! Why can't I stop thinking about her! Stupid bitch, she's crazier than I am! So defiant, up until last night. What happened? All the fire, the fight, her feistiness…. Why do I even care?'_ The Joker walked down the alleyway back to the apartment he was keeping Kyra in. Out of the shadows stepped two tall burly men, one had a baseball bat, the other was weaponless. The Joker inwardly groaned; he was not in the mood to play tonight.

"Hey, Jim, look at the clown freak! What do you say we wipe that smile off his face?" The Joker's face turned stony. "Who are you calling freak?" The man with the baseball bat stepped forward first, bat raised, ready to swing. Before he could blink the Joker's knife had sliced a thin line across his throat. The Joker turned to the other man, who was hurrying off the other way. He decided not to go after him, instead he threw his knife. It landed with a thump in the man's back. He collapsed to the street, dead. The Joker smirked. Cleaned up human gene pool, check.

Stepping over the body of the dead man, he continued on his way. He turned the corner and headed down the street. Again his thoughts turned to Kyra. _'Most of the other people I've killed have either cried, begged me to spare them, or both.' _The Joker started cackling as he remembered.

'_Of course, there were the few that fought back, but none of them were like her. None of them ever looked at him with as much hate in their eyes as she did. And I broke her. So, why doesn't that make me happy, like it would with anyone else? Damn it!'_

The Joker slammed his fist into a nearby building, but neither his hand nor the wall was affected._ 'Why can't I stop thinking about her, about the way she looked at me today?' _The Joker thought back to that morning. Her body lay bare before him; her slender neck, sensuous curves, long legs…. The Joker paused for a minute.

He thought about her legs, her inner thighs. There was something wrong with them. The Joker grimaced as he saw the fine lines in his mind's eye. They were scars, created with a knife. The Joker thought to other parts of her body, her wrists, the small of her back, all marred with the lines. Someone had already hurt her.

The Joker was filled with fresh rage, and he let out an inhuman growl, tearing whatever he could get his hands on, trash bags flew open, a dumpster gained several new dents. No, one touched what was his. They had ruined the game for him. That was why she had endured so long. She had already been through it! He'd find the bastard, kill him, deliver the coup de gras to Kyra and then be done with this obsession.

The Joker took a deep breath, he needed to get out of there, somebody could have heard his little fit. As the Joker rounded the last corner before home, a hooker called out to him,

"Hey, baby. Lookin' for a good time?"

The Joker looked over at the girl. She was pretty. She shouldn't have chosen being a prostitute as her occupation, she could have done much better. She had long blond hair, and a slender but well-curved body. She reminded him of Kyra. But, something was off. The eyes. This woman's eyes were a pale green color while Kyra's were a dark blue. _'Damn it! Why won't she get out of my head?"_

He stepped out of the shadows, letting the hooker see his face. A look of fright overcame her features. He smiled and rushed her, slamming her against the wall of the building she had been standing in front of. She tried to scream, but soon found the Joker's switchblade in her mouth.

"Do you want to know how I got these scars…."

**Sometime later….**

The Joker whistled to himself as he walked to his apartment door. He paused outside, checking to make sure he hadn't gotten blood on his suit. The hooker had been fun, but he was about to have a party with Kyra. He stopped in his tracks when he walked in. Kyra was asleep on his couch, the TV turned to Nickelodeon. _'That's weird, she's a grown woman and she watches Nickelodeon. Maybe she really is crazier than me.'_

He walked over and stood beside her, looking down. _'She really is lovely…beautiful even.'_ He shook his head to clear away his thoughts, and picked her up, carrying her into his bedroom. She would sleep beside him, that night and every night, at least until he could figure out this mess he'd gotten into with her. Too bad she would have to die; she was so lovely.


	8. Her Haunted Past

Okay, everyone, once again I apologise for the delays. I really need to learn to manage my time better. Also, there are some graphic themes in this chapter that have to do with Kyra's past. Also, please don't kill me if my grammar sucks, as I wrote this at about one in the morning. I'll try my best to get more chapters to you soon. Thanks to everyone who reviewed and I hope you all enjoy this new chapter!

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That night, the first night in a long time, Kyra didn't dream. She awoke that morning relaxed, refreshed. Unfortunately, she awoke to a nightmare. She realized as she was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes that she was no longer on the couch. And, that there was a warm body next to her. A male body. The Joker's. He hadn't woken up yet, and Kyra considered making a break for it. How far would she make it? Out of the bedroom? The apartment? Once she got out where would she go? Surely everyone who cared, which wasn't that many people thought she was dead. Gone, disappeared, another victim of Gotham's slums?

She glanced down at the Joker. In his sleep he looked so different. Peaceful. With most of the makeup rubbed of, lanky green-tinted hair falling in a mess around his head, the Joker looked almost…human. The Joker rolled over, his eyes shooting open, startling Kyra so bad she almost fell off the bed. The Joker, always alert, grabbed her wrist and steadied her. He flipped her wrist over and studied the thin lines that marred them. The Joker looked up pinning her where she was with his look.

"Who gave you these? Or did you do them to yourself?" Kyra gulped down the knot that had suddenly formed in her throat; she had been ready for anything, but not this. She didn't think anyone could notice the scars, they were so faint. So why had he, and why was he asking about them? Why did her care? She voiced this thought aloud, causing him to squeeze her wrist harder.

"Just answer the question." Kyra squeezed her eyes shut tightly, felt her blood run cold. All her memories rushing back once more, like a puppy, rushing up at the slightest hint of its name. She barely managed to choke out a whisper.

"I did them to myself, a long time ago." If possible, the Joker squeezed even harder on her wrist.

"Why?" His voice was cold, steady, measured. Kyra didn't know what to think. Why would this man, who she was just a toy to, first carry her to bed, and then inquire about her past? Her head swam.

"Why, Kyra." He said again roughly. She cracked, opened up like a loose faucet.

"I did it when I was thirteen. My father…. He, he abused me. It started when I was nine. My father would come home drunk sometimes. Slap my mom around. Well, that day, she had just found out she was pregnant again. My father came home drunk as usual, but then she told him she was pregnant. My father always wanted a little boy. Hated girls. We were weak, he couldn't do guy things with us."

"So, instead of mess around with my mother, he turned to me instead. Couldn't hurt the chances of his baby boy finally being born. He used me that night. Raped me. I didn't totally understand then, but as I got older I learned. It got worse after my sister was born. She wasn't his precious boy. The abuse got worse."

"At thirteen I did this. I tried to kill myself, only it didn't work, and people started asking questions. That was the last thing I wanted, so I put up with the abuse for four more years, until I ran away. I got a waitressing job, an apartment, amazingly made it into college. And well, here I am. Right back where I started."

Kyra didn't realize until she was through that she was crying, the tears stinging the fresh wounds on her cheeks a little bit. The Joker stared at her, silent. He released her wrist, got up, and left. Kyra stared at the door, tears still streaming down her face. She had just unwittingly bared her past, her soul to that maniac. Nothing could save her now.

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**Joker's POV**

He left her alone in the bedroom after hearing her confession, his thoughts clouded. Her past was so similar to his own. He went to the dining room, dropped into one of the cushioned seats. A random girl he picked off the streets, a little bit of _fun_ had wormed herself so deep into his thoughts. Chaos had thrown him for a loop with this one.

A strange anger rose in him as he thought about her story. Her father, treated her like that, and she had done nothing! But he knew what she had gone through. Well, most of it anyway. He knew how hard it was to stand up for yourself, how easy it was to snap. He had just snapped in a different way…. He shook his head. Men like their fathers didn't deserve their lives. Was her father still alive? The Joker smiled at the thought of what he would do to him if he was. He would just have to find out…


	9. Confronting the Past

Kyra looked up as the Joker re-entered the room, a look she had never seen before on his face. He was serious, determined. He came and sat next to her, but made no move to touch her, didn't look at her. She stared at his back, wondering what had made him act like this all of a sudden.

When he finally spoke, she almost jumped out of her skin.

"We're alike, you and I." _How could I have anything in common with this man?_ As if reading her thoughts he said,

"Our pasts." He turned to her a Cheshire cat grin on his face.

"Do you wanna to know how I got these scars?" Kyra was curious. They're pasts were similar?

"My name used to be Jack Napier. I used to be just like you. My father was a drinker...and a fiend. And one night, he goes off craaaazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen to defend herself. He doesn't like that. Not...one...bit. So, me watching, he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. He turns to me, and he says, "Why so serious?" Comes at me with the knife, "Why so serious?!" Sticks the blade in my mouth, "Let's put a smile on that face." Kyra didn't know what to say. They were so alike, yet so different. What forces of fate could have possibly thought throwing them together would be a good idea?

"So, you see, my lovely lady…" He grabbed her chin, tilted her face up so that their eyes met.

"We're much more alike than you think." He tapped her on the nose, then let her face go. There was only one question she could think of right then.

"What did you do to him?" The Joker began cackling, that high-pitched laughter that had once made Kyra's blood run cold. Not anymore. He was just a broken man who had morphed into something almost unrecognizable.

"Why, I killed him of course. The same as you're going to do to your little daddykins tonight." Kyra sat back a little.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't be denssse. You and me baby. Tonight I'm going to take you back to your home one last time, as it appears you still have some unfinished business with papa. Now get up and get ready, we'll be leaving soon."

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An hour later Kyra was ready to go. Dressed in black jeans, a clingy purple sweater, and the only shoes the Joker had gotten her, purple fuck me boots. She had no idea where he was, or why he was doing this. She didn't know if she was ready to face her father again. Just thinking about him and what he did to her made her want to burst into tears. Kyra steeled herself against those thoughts. He deserved this. He deserved everything he got.

"Ready to go lovely?" The Joker asked, moving around Kyra to unlock the door.

"And let's not have any funny business tonight, sweetheart. I'd hate to have to kill you after all this. But, just to be safe…" The Joker took a long piece of black cloth from one of his pockets and tied it over her eyes. He guided her down some stairs and out of a building, a cold rush of air hitting Kyra. He shoved her into a car and slammed the door. He got around to the other side and started driving the car. Kyra wasn't sure how long they had driven, or to where, but when she got out of the car she was surprised to see a small house, not the apartment complex she grew up in.

_Something good must have happened. Maybe dad got clean….maybe things have changed. _ The Joker shoved her forward.

"Move to the left side of the house, there's an unlocked window we'll go through." Kyra did as she was told, lying still against the house while the Joker forced open the window. He climbed in first, and then Kyra followed. She found herself in a child's room. Pink walls with a teddy bear border, bookcases filled with children's books, a bean bag, still indented with the form of the person who had last used it. Against the far wall was a twin sized bed, and in it, her little sister.

"Stacy…" Kyra inched closer, looked down at the small form of her little sister. The last time she had seen her she was eight years old, still wore nightgowns and pigtails to school. This wasn't the same child. Now at thirteen, just beginning to mature, her hair had darkened, she had gotten tall, and her feet hung over the edge of the bed. Kyra leaned closer, and almost recoiled in horror.

Her left eye was swollen shut, bruised. She had a split lip, and the top of her shoulder had fingerprint shaped bruises on it. A wave of anger washed over Kyra. Nothing had changed. Nothing would ever change! Kyra bent down and kissed her sister's forehead. Unfortunately, her sister rolled over, opened her eyes slowly.

"Kyra, I don't want to go… Kyra!" Her sister shot up.

"Kyra you came back! What are you doing here…? What happened to your face?" Kyra's hand went up to her cheek. She had almost forgotten about the stitches there.

"Shhhhh! Stacy, look I haven't come back. I just need to talk to dad." Stacy's face fell instantly. Tears began to well up in her eyes, but before she could speak the Joker popped back in.

"Kyra let's go, now." Stacy's eyes went wide and she opened her mouth to let out a scream when Kyra's hand clamped over her mouth. She looked Stacy right in the eyes.

"Look, Stacy, its okay. He's not going to hurt you. He's here with me. Listen, do you know any of the neighbors?" She shook her head, no. Kyra sighed.

"Okay, Stacy, you need to stay in this room. And no matter what happens, no matter what you hear, stay here! Please, Stacy, do what I ask." He sister nodded, Kyra stood up and joined the Joker in the hallway.

"Well, wasn't that touching?" Kyra wasn't in the mood. She brushed past him to go further down the hall. Towards the direction of her father's snoring.

"Shut up, asshole." The Joker whirled her around, slammed her against the wall, and slapped her. It hurt twice as bad. He leaned in close to her.

"Let's not forget who brought you here. Who holds the power?" He pushed her again, then let her go. She stumbled forward a bit, but managed to right herself.

"Come on, his room's at the end of the hall. Here" The Joker handed her a long blade with a purple handle. She didn't have to ask what it was for. They quietly slipped into her father's room. He hadn't changed at all. Still tall, a bit heavyset, brown hair that was thinning out. But something had changed. Her mother wasn't sleeping by his side. Kyra didn't have to think twice about what had happened to her.

"What did you do to mom!" Kyra's scream woke her father up quickly. Glancing around frantically his eyes widened when he saw his daughter, and the man who was standing behind her.

"Kyra, what are you doing here! Why is that freak with you!?" He tried to sit up, but the Joker held him back.

"Who are you calling freak. I'm not the one who beats and rapes his daughters." The Joker whispered in his ear. Kyra's father began throwing a fit, trying to escape, but the Joker was too strong for him. Kyra let her rage fill her. She had suffered under this man, her mother had suffered and most likely been killed by this man, and now her sister was suffering under this man. It was time for him to suffer.

Kyra let out a long scream of rage and began her work.

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An hour later Kyra appeared from her father's room, bloody, exhausted, and exhilarated. She slowly made her way to her sister's room as the Joker was gathering his tools. She opened the door and her sister's wide frightful eyes locked onto her.

"Kyra, what did you do?" Kyra just shook her head.

"The police are coming. I called them. When they get here explain to them what happened. Tell them the truth. I don't care if I become haunted. I'm just glad you're safe. Your nightmare is over Stacy. You're going to go to a good home and live a good life. I promise. Goodbye, Stacy. I love you. And I'm sorry, for everything." With that Kyra shut the door. They needed to leave; the police would be there any moment.

The Joker appeared beside her.

"Let's go, lovely. And I must say that color looks wonderful on you." Kyra looked down. She was drenched in blood.

She and the Joker rushed out the front door to the car. Just before he re-blinded her, Kyra caught a glimpse of Stacy, watching out the front door window, tears streaming down her face.


End file.
